


the way you move for me, baby

by istajmaal



Series: genderfluid!harry verse [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Plug, Dirty Talk, F/M, Genderqueer Character, Lipstick, Louis in Panties, M/M, Other, Power Bottom Louis, Rimming, Sub Harry, Subspace, a little comeplay, aftercare fluff, cleverly disguised rant abt how femininity submissiveness and weakness are NOT ALL THE SAME THINGS, genderfluid!harry, nick grimshaw is mentioned for 2 sec but he goes away don't worry, porn with a splash of queer theory, porn with fluff, still nobody wearing a little black dress sry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istajmaal/pseuds/istajmaal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when harry wears panties, it's not so much a sex thing. when louis wears them, it is very much a sex thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the way you move for me, baby

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Spójrz, jak na mnie działasz, kochanie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1880613) by [carietta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carietta/pseuds/carietta)



> wow, i've been completely overwhelmed by the response to that last genderfluid!harry fic. i didn't have plans to expand this verse because the point of "little black dress" was basically "check out the thing!!" but, you know. praise makes me all dopey and suggestible. this is nowhere near as substantial or important as "little black dress" so don't get excited or anything but, like. porn. here it is.
> 
> disclaimer: don't know harry styles or louis tomlinson, would probably be doing better things with my life if i did, have no authoritative knowledge of anyone's gender identity because i am not these people, &c.
> 
> tumblr: thepreviousquestion

Louis isn’t jealous of Nick Grimshaw. It’s just. Louis and Harry have this huge fucking house, right, and it’s brilliant and it’s all theirs but they never get to spend any time in it, so when Harry goes out shopping with him the second day they’re home after four months away—okay, Louis is jealous of Nick Grimshaw, a little.

 

“It’s just a few hours,” Harry says. Louis is sitting on their (big, white, _theirs_ ) bed pouting and Harry is applying a shade of lipstick that is exactly the same color as her lips but Harry likes the way it feels. Louis likes things that Harry likes, with perhaps the exclusive exception of Irish Breakfast tea, but he fully anticipates kissing both of those things off Harry’s lips in another couple hours so he’s not complaining. Much.

 

“I know,” Louis says. He falls back onto the bed so Harry can’t see him pouting in the mirror. Not like she won’t know he is anyway. “I know that he’s your friend and you also kind of have to, so I’m, like, fine with it.” He pauses. “But can you also be fine with me pouting a little? Because we’re not home for long and—you know.”

 

Harry pops her lips. It’s probably to do with the lipstick but she also knows exactly what Louis is bemoaning the lack of when he says _we’re not home for long_ and yeah, Harry’s a little shit.

 

“Can do,” she says, smiling. She turns to face Louis. “How do I look?”

 

“You look,” Louis says. He peeks his chin up just enough to see Harry dressed in blue skinny jeans and a plain white tee, pouting her lips like a five-year-old. “Exactly the same as ten minutes ago,” he finishes.

 

“Perfect.” Harry grins. The lipstick really does match astonishingly well; Louis is extremely well-acquainted with Harry’s lips and he can barely tell the difference.

 

“Which is to say, absolutely stunning, babe.” Louis smiles at her weakly and then flops back down onto the bed. “Another reason I don’t want you to go.”

 

Harry chuckles and checks her watch. “Gotta get going,” she says. “Leftovers are in the fridge, don’t put the tinfoil in the microwave,” she ducks down to kiss Louis’s cheek very lightly, so as not to leave a mark, “love you.”

 

“Love you too,” Louis mutters when Harry’s halfway out the door. He sighs and figures now is when he’s supposed to do all those things he tells himself he loves but never has time for on tour.

 

An hour later, Louis finds himself lying in bed scrolling through the contacts in his phone. He’s already reheated and eaten the leftover ravioli (not to mention avoided blowing anything up in the process, which became the subject of a very self-satisfied series of Snapchats). He could easily call one of the boys, or any of his other dozen friends in London who would leave whatever they’re doing at the drop of a hat to hang out with him, but that might end up interfering with his plan to ravish Harry as soon as she returns home, so that’s a no.

 

It’s after he sinks to rummaging around in their drawers for one of Harry’s sweaters that he decides to take drastic measures to deal with his boredom. Nothing in the dresser smells like Harry so he finds himself digging through the hamper, and wouldn’t it be _hilarious_ if Harry came back and found that Louis had done the laundry? Her eyes would go all wide and she’d clap her hand over her mouth in exaggeration and wipe away fake tears and _fuck_ yeah, Louis is doing this.

 

Louis’s not actually totally incompetent at household tasks, like the band tends to think he is. He grew up with four younger sisters and a mum who worked full-time. He thinks he’s done more than his fair share of laundry for a lifetime, honestly. He spends the next two hours sorting, washing, and Snapchatting Perrie pictures of the dryer with vibrator jokes.

 

When the last load is done, Louis’s checking his phone constantly to see if Harry’s said when she’ll be back yet, but she doesn’t respond. He’s so anxious to fill the time that he decides to actually fold the clothes and put them away. Let no one ever say he’s never made sacrifices in this relationship.

 

It’s while he’s putting away a pair of I Heart NY boxers (“ _mine_ , Lou, you don’t get to be jealous after you spent a whole day and a half taking the piss”) in his own drawer, just to piss Harry off, that he notices the beige satin hipster panties with black lace trimming. He drops the boxers and picks them up immediately. They’re the first pair of panties Louis ever saw Harry wear. That’s a thing people get sentimental about, right?

 

Harry doesn’t wear panties like this, nice ones, much on the road. They’re not very practical for tucking and—well, Harry doesn’t get much chance to dress how she wants to dress, just because, while they’re on tour. Something twists in Louis’s gut when he remembers Harry telling him, the first night they’d talked about Harry’s genderfluidity ages ago in their first flat, how the feeling of just panties against her skin made her feel secure, not as much in control as when she was tucking but _sort of like, I’m okay just being me, y’know, even without the control_. Louis has always known that things aren’t the same for him as they are for Harry but suddenly, he wants to really know what it _does_ feel like.

 

So Louis might take his trackies and briefs off to slip through his legs and up over his arse. He might pull his shirt off so he can get a better look at the way they hug the curve of his arse a lot tighter than Harry’s, how the seams dig into his flesh slightly, how his (mostly) soft cock is pressed snugly against the line of his hip. He might even bite his lip and wonder if he’s going to stretch them out before he sees Harry's reflection walk into the room carrying a large pink shopping bag and freezing in the doorway when she sees him.

 

“Hi,” Louis says, looking at Harry’s reflection. His throat feels a little tight. Harry drops the shopping bag on the floor.

 

“Hi,” she says. She’s staring. She opens her mouth to say something else, but all that comes out is “hi” again. Louis smirks as he turns a little in the mirror to get a better look at the satin stretched over his arse. This isn’t the reaction he’d been expecting when he’d decided to do laundry for Harry but fuck, he’ll take it.

 

Harry walks up behind Louis and ghosts her hands over his hips, watching them in the mirror. Louis watches her swallow. “So,” she says, “what, um, have you been up to?”

 

“I did the laundry,” Louis says. Harry doesn’t react for a minute, then leans her forehead against the back of Louis’s head and shakes with laughter.

 

“Is this your way of making it up to me?” she says, swaying back and forth and wrapping her arms around Louis’s middle briefly in a hug before putting her hands back to his hips just above the lace. “Did you ruin something?”

 

“Oi,” Louis says, ramming his head back so it collides with Harry’s. “I did _not_. I _know_ how to do laundry, I just don’t because you’re a compulsive cleaner. Want you to feel useful in this relationship, you know.”

 

“What d’you, then?” Harry says into Louis’s neck. Her hands slide down the silky fabric and she squeezes Louis’s bum. He maybe shudders a little. “Add. Um.”

 

“My arse, obviously,” he says loftily, closing his eyes to hide how much this is affecting him. 

 

“Mmm,” Harry says. One of her hands stays on Louis’s arse while the other rests on the curve of his hip. Louis is offended for half a minute that she isn’t putting in her fair share of banter, but he catches how she’s eyeing his semi in the panties, how her breathing has gone a bit shallow. His dick twitches. Harry grips his hip tightly, presses her hand over the cleft of his arse. _Oh_.

 

“Glad we’re agreed, then,” Louis says. “About my arse.”

 

Harry opens her mouth and then closes it again. Louis pushes back into her touch.

 

“Lou,” Harry says quietly.

 

There it is. The slightly pleading tone Harry uses sometimes that always, always gets Lou to do whatever she says. He turns around and pulls Harry into a kiss immediately.

 

It’s one of the filthier kisses Louis’s given Harry while she still has her shirt on. He holds her face in his hands and sucks on her lower lip harshly, and her hands stutter at his sides. She tastes waxy with lipstick, and Louis wonders how something that turned him off so much on the girls he kissed when he was fourteen turns him on _so_ much when it’s Harry. He ducks a hand down and pinches the already-hardened nub of her nipple and she breaks the kiss shaking and there it is again.

 

“Louis,” Harry says weakly. That tone. _Fuck_. “Louis, I want—“ She closes her eyes and shakes her head back and forth like she can’t believe what she's seeing, let alone put words to it. One of her hands keeps tracing the lace trimming on the underside of Louis’s bum. He swallows.

 

“What, love?" he says. He rubs one thumb over her nipple again and moves the other down to stroke over her throat. He feels her Adam’s apple bob when she swallows. “What do you want”

 

“I—“ Harry shakes her head. “I don't know." She blinks slowly, like she’s trying to communicate something in code.

 

Louis’s pretty sure he knows what that something is. Still, he rubs Harry’s hip lightly before ghosting his hand over her crotch. “Do you want me to touch you?” he says. He pinches one of her extra nipples. “Or not?"

 

Harry takes a deep breath and nods, keeping her gaze down at where Louis’s panty-clad cock is between them. “Please, Louis," she says, " _please_ , I—“ Harry closes her eyes and whimpers.

 

“Shh.” Louis puts a finger to Harry's lips. “I’ve got you,” he says. He looks into her eyes and when she looks back steadily he says, “Get on your knees for me,” in a low but soft voice that Louis barely recognizes but makes Harry shudder.

 

They've done this a couple times before. This thing, where Louis bosses Harry around a little. It’s not every time, not by a long shot, but sometimes. Sometimes Louis likes being pushed further than he thinks he can go, and sometimes Harry likes when Louis tells her what to do, when he fucks her throat so hard she has to go on vocal rest or blindfolds and teases her until she comes with no more than a finger on her cock.

 

Harry gets to her knees quickly. She has to lean back on her haunches to be at eye level with Louis’s crotch, because she’s become a bloody giant, but Louis thinks he likes it, how small she tries to make herself for him. She clasps her hands in her lap. Her eyes flicker between Louis’s face and his dick and she licks her lips, nostrils flaring.

 

Louis pulls the panties down far enough for his cock pop out, mostly hard already. Harry Styles is on her knees for him, okay. He’s _human_.

 

“Go on, then,” he says. “Give it a kiss.”

 

Harry’s lips part and if this were a movie some kind of angel chorus would probably start playing. Before Louis can give her any further instructions, she’s got half of his cock in her mouth.

 

“ _Jesus_ ,” Louis says, eyes fluttering shut as Harry hollows her cheeks and bobs once, twice down the length of his dick, taking a little more each time. Her hands are still clasped in her lap. Louis grabs his dick by the base and pulls it out of Harry’s mouth as she starts to work the head with her tongue. She’s already salivating so much she stays linked to him by a thread of spit. There is now lipstick smudged on Louis’s dick. He feels like he needs an inhaler.

 

“I said a _kiss_ ,” Louis says, breathing heavily. He shakes his head. Harry sucks her lips into her mouth and blinks up at him rapidly. The saliva chain linking them together breaks. “Don’t be greedy, Harry.”

 

“‘M sorry,” she mutters, barely moving her lips. Her eyes move back down to Louis’s cock peeking out of the panties. “Can I?” she whispers.

 

“You can give it a kiss,” Louis says. He threads one hand through Harry’s hair and pushes her lightly back towards him. Harry blinks twice before closing her eyes and kissing just next to Louis’s head softly, causing his cock to bob to the side a little with the force of it. He swallows.

 

“Again,” he says. He shifts his hand deeper into her hair, quiff already technically ruined but still somehow looking perfect. This time Harry parts her lips and kisses the side of his shaft hard, rubbing off a little more of her lipstick. Louis inhales deeply and lets Harry keep pressing sloppy kisses along his length. It’s hard to keep his eyes open but it’s even harder to take his eyes off her, eyes fluttered shut and kissing his cock so damn _reverently_. After almost all the lipstick has rubbed off her lips onto his dick, Louis tugs her head away gently.

 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says. His voice feels foreign in his throat. He swallows. “That was—so nice, Harry, thank you.” Harry blinks her eyes open and smiles in his general direction, her gaze unfocused. “Do you want the cuffs now?”

 

Harry’s hands twitch in her lap. She nods. Louis untangles his hand from her hair. “Stand up for me.”

 

Harry scrambles to her feet quickly, grabbing onto Louis’s wrist as she almost stumbles before pulling her hands back to her sides and dropping her gaze guiltily. Louis almost can’t believe she still has all her clothes on, she feels so exposed. He reaches out hesitantly to where her dick is tucked between her legs, preventing her from getting an erection. Harry doesn’t flinch, so Louis drags two fingers between her thighs lightly. Her eyes flutter shut again.

 

“Clothes off,” Louis mutters, pulling his hand way. He kisses Harry once on the mouth, lingering and sweet even though Harry barely kisses him back, her breathing ragged. Then he goes to the dresser and gets the handcuffs from the top drawer. They feel cold in his hands, and he fingers over them for a minute while he quickly sketches out a plan for what he’s going to do.

 

When Louis turns back around, Harry is putting both her clothes and his, which have still been lying on the ground by the mirror, in the hamper. Louis almost laughs out loud ( _seriously, Harry, you’re worrying about the cleaning up right now?_ ), but Harry looks fragile like this, her dick just starting to swell, chewing on her lip as she turns back to him. Her hands fall loosely to her sides. Louis just wants to take care of her, or like. Tear her apart so she knows he’ll always put her back together. He crosses the distance between them and locks Harry’s hands behind her back swiftly.

 

“Is this good?" he asks into her ear before pulling back to look at her. Harry opens her mouth, then closes it and nods. “’Red' if it's too much," he says. He traces the line of Harry's jaw lightly with the back of his hand. Harry nods again. “You with me? Tell me your color now."

 

“Yes," Harry croaks. She swallows. “I mean. Green. Really green.”

 

“Good, Harry." Louis continues stroking her jaw. _I just like it when I don’t have to think_ , Louis hears, the echo of something Harry had said to him a few months ago. _When I can just do what you tell me and know it’ll be good. I like being good for you._ “That's so good.” Louis swallows. “Back on your knees for me, love.”

 

Harry gets to her knees slowly. Louis almost reaches out a hand to steady her (Harry’s been known to trip over herself even in lesser circumstances) but Harry likes doing things that are a little hard when she’s like this, and Louis can tell she likes this because when she turns her face back up towards him she’s blinking quickly and her pupils are blown. Louis swallows.

 

“You got my cock all messy, Harry,” he says. “Are you going to clean that up?" Harry nods a little, not enough to take her eyes off Louis. Her lips part. Louis is so fucking hard right now. Some precome blurts out from his tip. “‘course you are," he says, sinking one finger into Harry's hair and scratching her head a little. “My Harry is always so good."

 

Harry moves her head forward to take Louis into her mouth, but Louis doesn’t want to come in Harry’s mouth and he’s pretty sure he’s not going to be able to stop.

 

“Harry,” Louis says, with an exaggerated sigh. He takes his cock in his hand and hits it against Harry's cheek playfully. A little precome is smeared on Harry's nose. _God._ She blinks. “What have I said about being greedy?”

 

Harry nods in understanding. “Sorry,” she practically whimpers. Then she licks a stripe up the side of Louis’s cock, where the faint outlines of her lips could be traced in lipstick. Louis scratches her head and she licks again, a little harder. 

 

As it turns out, lipstick doesn’t come off a dick that easily. After a few minutes of Harry running her tongue up and down Louis’s cock in every way but the way she really wants, given how she always eyes him pleadingly when she licks over the head, Louis pulls her face away from him.

 

“So nice, Harry,” he coos, his chest constricting as Harry searches him for a sign of approval. She preens at that, licking at the spit hanging out of the corners of her mouth. Her eyes are glassy and her cock is a hard red line between her legs. “Look how hard you've gotten for me, just from your face on my dick, that's amazing. So proud of you."

 

Harry keeps licking her lips and smiling. Her mouth is more red than it was with the lipstick on. Louis feels legitimately proud of her and wonders for a second if that makes this weird at all before putting it aside.

 

“You want it so bad, love. God.” Louis closes his eyes for a second before scratching under her chin. “What is it you want? You want to fuck me?"

 

Harry’s eyes go wider for a second—Louis didn’t think that was _possible_ but Harry’s face is nothing but superlatives—and she nods jerkily.

 

“Use your words, then." Harry gets spacey sometimes, just starts saying yes to everything, but the whole point of this is that Harry has to _really want it_.

 

“Wanna," Harry says weakly. She keeps licking her lips. “Wanna—fuck. _Louis_.”

 

No, no, Harry absolutely does not get to pull that face right now. That wide-eyed pink-cheeked face where she looks so turned on and desperate that Louis would do pretty much anything she asked him just so she doesn’t stop looking at him like that. He turns his gaze to Harry’s hair, twirling a little chunk in his fingers and tugging on it lightly.

 

“You're gonna have to open me up, then,” he says. “How're you going to do that all tied up, hmmm?"

 

Harry whines and nuzzles her cheek against Louis's balls, sticking her tongue out to try to reach Louis's hole, still covered with the lacy panties. Louis swears under his breath.

 

“Yeah, shit. Okay." He’s pretty sure he’s never said no to this. Louis turns and takes a step towards the wall, bracing his hands against it and taking a few deep breaths before looking over his shoulder to where Harry is still kneeling on the ground, her eyes just about popping out of her head. “Come on, then.”

 

Harry almost faceplants trying to walk to Louis on her knees. Louis puts his forehead against the wall for a minute and reminds himself that he has to stay in control of this because there's no way Harry is coming out of the daze she's in right now enough to take over.

 

Harry pulls the panties down over Louis's bum with her teeth. She rests her forehead against the top of Louis's crack, nudging between his cheeks with her nose. Louis widens his stance a little and hopes that will be enough for Harry to reach because if he takes his hands off the wall to spread his cheeks open for Harry he'll probably fall over himself, he’s so turned on.

 

It's enough. Harry licks at Louis's rim once, tentatively, and Louis clenches his teeth. “Good," he says, his voice a little strained. “Good, love, don't hold back."

 

Louis’s never been rimmed by anyone else but he doesn’t particularly want to be, because he’s pretty sure that Harry’s tongue is literally perfect for it, long and strong and wet and _fuck_. She just sounds like she _loves_ having her face between the cheeks of Louis’s arse and her tongue pushing just far enough inside him to make him want more like mad.

 

“Stop,” Louis says after a few minutes, because he's about to blow his load all over the wall. “Enough," he bites out, moving away from Harry’s mouth quickly and gripping his dick tightly by the base for a minute before turning back around. The panties that were hanging up by his thighs drop to the ground. Harry's face is turned up at him, and she's biting her lip. Louis tugs on her hair a little and smiles. “That was lovely, Harry,” he says. “I’m gonna open myself up for you now, do you want to watch that?"

 

“Yeah," Harry says. Louis is startled for half a second by how deep and gravelly her voice is, almost like he’d fucked her throat. “Yes. Please."

 

“Stand up." Harry does.

 

Louis undoes one of Harry's cuffs, and her hands fall to her sides like dead weight. Her gaze is unfocused, her breathing shallow. Louis trails a finger down her chest, splaying his hand over Harry's butterfly tattoo. “Okay?" he says quietly.

 

Harry's eyes come back into focus for a minute on Louis’s face. “Really good," she mumbles with a shy grin.

 

“Are you—“ Louis breaks off and licks his lips. “Could break out the toys, if you don’t wanna. Y’know.” Harry doesn’t like to top on girl days, usually. Harry’s breath catches.

 

“No, I’m not—I’m middle-ish. Wanna,” she says. Louis cocks an eyebrow. “Green,” Harry says, nodding. “Please.”

 

Louis pulls her hands in front of her and cuffs them again. “Get on the bed, then.”

 

The panties are still lying on the floor. Louis picks them up as he watches Harry lie herself down on the bed, shifting her hands uncomfortably in the cuffs like she doesn’t know where to put them until she settles them down along her v-line, looking at Louis for approval. She spreads her legs a little automatically, and if Louis weren’t aching to get fucked, he’d spend an hour or three playing with her hole, but. Well. He _is_ aching to get fucked, as it were. It’s been a while, he already feels loose from Harry’s thorough rim job, and Harry’s cock is always so pretty when she’s hard, Louis just wants it _in_ him.

 

Louis drops the panties next to Harry on the bed and goes to the drawer where they keep lube. “That’s it, gorgeous,” he says. He notices their small black plug lying next to the lube, and grabs it on an impulse.

 

He straddles Harry’s legs and she whimpers. Louis picks up the panties next to her and thumbs over the crotch thoughtfully. Then he rubs them down Harry’s cheek.

 

Harry’s chest heaves and her lips part. Her eyes widen. Louis’s thumb catches on her lower lip through the satin and he cocks his head a little with an unasked question.

 

Harry nods, minutely. Louis feeds the crotch of the panties into her mouth. Harry moans and closes her eyes.

 

Louis wants it. He really, really wants to shove Harry’s panties that were hugging his arse not long ago into her mouth. He wants to see her drool all over them, wants to see her not be able to snap her jaw shut, wants to see how blissed-out she looks when she tries to talk but can’t. He wants it because _Harry_ wants it, so much her _hands_ are shaking, _Christ_. He’s half a second away from just doing it when the reasonable part of his mind kicks in, tells him that Harry’s getting over a cold and might not be able to breathe through her nose, tells him that they haven’t _talked_ about this and how would Harry tell him if she needed to stop?

 

Louis pulls the panties out of Harry’s mouth slowly, allowing himself to admire the beige of the satin against Harry’s reddened lips. “Next time,” he says quietly. “If you’re good.”

 

Harry whines when Louis drops the panties over the side of the bed. She starts chewing on her lip again as Louis leans back on his haunches and squeezes some lube onto his fingers. His first finger slides in easily, and the second comes a minute or so later. It’s been a while, yes, but. Louis’s body feels like it was made to take Harry, honestly.

 

“Bet you wish this was you,” Louis says, exhaling sharply as he just barely grazes his prostate. Harry inhales sharply to match. “I know how much you like getting fucked,” Louis continues, “but I need you all hard so I can use you. You get that, don’t you?” Louis doesn’t get fuzzy like Harry does, really, but fucking himself on his fingers while Harry watches makes for a heady sensation and he doesn’t think he’s making sense anymore, but Harry whispers _yes_.

 

After a few minutes of three fingers Harry’s hands keep twitching as she reaches out for Louis instinctively before remembering she’s not supposed to touch. Enough prep, Louis wants her inside him, _now_ —but. This isn’t all about him, appearances to the contrary.

 

“You look so pretty,” he says. He drags his knuckle up the vein of Harry’s cock where it lies hard and flushed against her stomach. Harry keens as Louis’s thumb rubs the underside of the head and a bead of precome leaks out. “All wet and ready for me. I have something for you, love, think you’ll like it.”

 

Louis picks up the plug and Harry flushes even deeper, trying to open her legs but caged in by Louis’s knees. Louis smiles and his arse clenches around nothing. Fucking _Harry_.

 

Louis shifts down Harry’s body a little and moves so he’s only straddling one thigh, so she can spread her legs. Louis drizzles some more lube onto his fingers and circles Harry’s rim. Her whole body jerks and she throws her head back as he pushes his index finger in.

 

Louis tuts. “Hands over your head,” he says as he pushes in a little farther. Harry complies with a shaking breath.

 

Louis opens her up quickly; it’s far from their biggest plug, and Harry’s still a little loose from last night. Harry lets out a shuddering _hah_ as Louis eases the plug in, then taps at the base where it sticks out of her.

 

“ _Lou_ ,” Harry whines. Louis looks up quickly. Her cheeks are blotchy red and she’s tugging on the handcuffs over her head, her hands balled into fists. Louis shakes his head, says _shh,_ and smirks as he takes her cock into his hand. She gasps.

 

“Love you,” he mutters. He slicks her up quickly and positions himself over her and it’s just like they’ve done it a hundred times before, except this time Harry’s hands aren’t digging into Louis’s hips, they’re straining against handcuffs over her head… Louis sinks down slowly, partly because he’s still bloody tight, partly to tease Harry, but mostly so he remembers to breathe.

 

Once Louis is fully seated on Harry’s cock he takes a minute to adjust, enjoying how Harry’s chest is framed with his hands on either side, how she turns her face into the pillow and groans, how hot and perfect she feels inside him. When he feels like if he moves the burn won't set him on fire, he lifts off a few inches and sinks back down quickly, his breath hitching with the flare of pain but it’s worth it for the way Harry looks completely _destroyed_ , her cuffed hands keep moving to reach for him before she forces them back down. Louis wants to keep Harry wanting him this badly _all the time._ After a couple strokes like that, Louis rolls his hips and Harry gasps, heels grappling for purchase as she tries to thrust up into Louis.

 

Louis’s puts his hands down on Harry’s chest forcefully. “Don’t you dare,” he says. He moves up and down Harry’s cock twice quickly and Harry thrashes her head from side to side, moaning _Louis_. He claps a hand over her mouth and her eyes shoot open. “Don’t make any noise,” Louis says, “and _don’t_ move. Got it?”

 

Harry shifts her head back so she’s not turned into the pillow and blinks twice. He lets go of her mouth and clenches around her, shoulders tensing because of how _full_ he is, and it doesn’t hurt exactly but it’s a lot. Harry is a lot.

 

“Good,” he grunts. Keeping his hands on Harry’s chest, he starts working up a rhythm. Harry trembles underneath him but doesn’t move. Louis leans a little in a few different directions until he finds the spot that has him gripping the base of his cock to keep himself from coming. He shifts away from it, applauding himself for his willpower while he clenches around Harry again. She whines a little, deep in her throat, and Louis doesn’t have the heart to scold her for that.

 

“Don't come, Harry," he says. He aims for a sharp tone but it might come out a little less controlled than he’d hoped for. Harry bites her lip and leans her head back so she’s staring up at her clenched fists. “You won't come, will you, sweetheart?"

 

Louis can _see_ Harry’s throat shaking with the effort not to make any noise. She shakes her head just enough to show she hears him. There are tears in her eyes. _Overwhelmed_ , Harry had said once, _it’s not bad, it doesn’t mean I’m upset, it means—just don’t fucking stop_.

 

Without pulling out entirely, Louis turns around so that his back is to Harry. She exhales heavily. Louis wants to see Harry like this, he _really_ does, but not as much as he wants her to see him. To see her cock splitting his arse open and not be able to touch as he takes all of her inside him. Louis nudges at the base of the plug poking out of her and Harry can’t hold it in; Louis fucks her with it in time with his bounces on her cock and she _sobs,_ the handcuffs rattling as she whines when Louis lets go of the plug. Harry’s not allowed to come yet and this isn’t about cruelty, not really. He braces himself on Harry’s thighs, pushing them into the bed and closes his eyes, working himself quickly back to the rhythm he had established before, but this time angling himself so that Harry’s cock hits his prostate dead-on. Louis lets out a hearty moan and he’d allow himself to exaggerate a little at this point, honestly, for Harry’s sake, but he doesn’t _have_ to because Harry is stretching him out and Harry’s cock is sliding against the innermost part of him and Harry, Harry, _Harry is inside him_ and Louis would rather die, he thinks, than get over how good it is to ride Harry Styles.

 

Louis isn’t sure how long it is, honestly, before he feels his orgasm building warm and insistent in his belly. He’s barely touched his cock since this whole thing started, but he pulls out of Harry to turn back around to face her, he feels the loss like someone ribbed out one of his ribs, and even when he gets Harry back inside him he can’t keep himself from starting to jerk off.

 

Harry had tucked her chin against her chest to watch Louis when he was facing away but now her head is thrown back, exposing the pale column of her neck as she breathes heavily. Her shoulders have relaxed a little into the mattress but Louis can read the soundless moans in the ripples of her throat muscles; her thighs are shaking, her cheeks are stained with tears and she’s just _taking_ it, Louis clenches around her and her head snaps back to face him, her pupils so shot Louis can barely see the green in her eyes and her lips swollen from chewing them shut. She looks happier than she has in weeks and… that’s it. That’s the thing that does it, how _happy_ it makes Harry when Louis uses her like this. He comes all over Harry's stomach with a shout.

 

He rides out his orgasm slowly, not looking away from Harry’s red-rimmed eyes as he clenches around her. Harry turns her face into the pillow again as Louis pushes himself off her cock slowly. She strains at the handcuffs again.

 

Louis gives himself a minute to remember how lungs work before he nudges Harry’s legs apart and kneels between them. Her cock is wet with lube and turning almost purplish at the head and Louis doesn’t know how she hasn’t come, honestly, there is no way he could do what she’s doing, _ever_.

 

“So proud of you,” Louis whispers. He runs a finger through the pearly white come on Harry’s abs and Harry inhales with a shudder but Louis’s words have had some kind of drugging effect on her, apparently, because she smiles dopily. Louis holds his come-covered finger to Harry’s lips and she latches on, straining her neck to reach while she sucks on his finger hard. After a minute Louis pulls away, ducking his head to lick his come off Harry’s stomach muscles as they ripple with a moan.

 

Louis slides his hand between Harry’s legs and grasps the end of the plug again, causing Harry to buck and whine. Louis kisses down Harry’s happy trail and takes Harry’s cock in his other hand as he begins to rock the plug into Harry slowly.

 

“Want you to come now,” Louis says. He kisses Harry’s stomach again and angles the plug towards Harry’s prostate. She gasps and rocks back against him, throwing her head back again. “You’ve been so good,” Louis says, keeping the pressure against Harry’s prostate with one hand as he jerks her off with as loose a fist as he can muster with the other. “ _Amazing_ , Harry, love you so much, want you to now, show me, love, want to see— _yes_ ,” Louis breathes out as Harry spills onto his hand with a choked-off sob, “ _yes_ , Harry, so fucking pretty, god, so good. Love you. Love you.”

 

Harry’s orgasm lasts ages, it feels like. Louis strokes her through it, kissing along the line of her hip while she whimpers through the finish. When she finally stops twitching and sinks into the mattress, boneless, Louis rubs her thigh with one hand while gently pulling out the plug with the other. Harry lets out a little _oh_ and _this_ , Louis thinks for about the sixth time in the past hour, is the most beautiful she has ever been.

 

When the plug is out, Louis sets it on the edge of the bed carefully and climbs onto Harry’s chest. “Hi,” he says, running his hands up and down Harry’s arms, still stretched out over her head.

 

Harry breathes out slowly and blinks multiple times. “Hiiiii,” she says. She tries to hook her chin around Louis’s arm. Louis undoes the handcuffs and places them on the nightstand. Harry rolls her wrists carefully before reaching up to rub both hands over Louis’s face. She then bites her lip and ducks her head into a pillow.

 

“Ha-rry,” Louis sing-songs quietly. He rolls off her and settles next to her, hugging her around her midsection, closing his eyes, and resting his foreheads against hers. “You here with me?”

 

“Mmmmm,” Harry says. Louis opens his eyes and finds her blinking at him wide-eyed like a deer. He kisses her nose.

 

“That was amazing, Harry,” he says. “God, _so_ good. Can you come back to me now, love?” He pets Harry’s cheek and she nuzzles into it but doesn’t say anything. Louis bites his lip and makes himself more comfortable, tugging a pillow under his head. He keeps muttering encouragements into Harry’s ear, saying how beautiful she is and how much he wants her back with him now, please, running his hands all over Harry’s tattooed skin soothingly. Eventually Harry sighs and she turns her face a little, looking at him deliberately rather than with glassed-over eyes.

 

“Back, I think,” she says. She cracks her shoulder. 

 

Louis kisses her wrists. “Hi,” he says. “How’re you feeling?”

 

“Warm,” Harry mutters. “Love. Lovely. Love. Hi.” She bumps her forehead against Louis’s and rubs her nose against his.

 

Louis laughs, scratching at her upper back lightly. “Sometimes I think you’re an actual cat.”

 

Harry shakes her head and presses her face into the pillow again for a second before looking back at Louis with a glint in her eye and says, “ _really_ hope you wouldn’t do that to a cat, Lou.”

 

Half a dozen retorts surface in Louis’s mind, several involving collars, but Harry is draping her arms over him and… there’s time for banter later. Right now, he just wants to bask in Harry’s glow. He kisses her lips softly and she purrs. _Cat_.

 

They lay together quietly for a few minutes, the silence only punctured by little hums and sighs. Louis keeps touching Harry’s face, kissing her fingernails. Eventually, she rolls over and off the bed—not very quickly, but quickly enough that Louis blinks in surprise.

 

“Shower,” Harry says. Louis frowns and wonders if he didn’t clean her off well enough.

 

“‘Kay,” he says. He stretches. “I’ll be in in a minute." He feels like he’s seconds away from falling asleep but wherever Harry is going, he’ll be there.

 

Harry purses her lips. “Could you—um." She scratches her head. “I… need a minute, actually."

 

Louis sits up. “You okay?” he asks automatically. Harry tenses slightly.

 

“Yeah,” she says, “yeah, no, just. Want to clear my head. You’re a bit of a distraction.”

 

“Right,” Louis says. He brushes his hair off his face. “Yeah, I mean—yeah, of course, as long as you're all right?"

 

“I am," Harry says, "yes, no, I mean." She cracks a grin and rolls her eyes. “It’s a… gender. Whatever.”

 

Louis immediately feels bad for pressing it. “Go on, then.” He rolls out of bed and kisses Harry on the cheek, gripping her hips for a moment before dropping them. “Take a minute. Or twenty. I’m going to put the kettle on. Irish Breakfast?” Harry smiles and nods. “Heathen,” he sighs. “I’m such an enabler.” He kisses her cheek again. “Clean towels on the rack.”

 

“My boyfriend,” Harry says fondly, shaking her head. Louis thinks about the little lilt in her voice with a sappy smile as he stands in their kitchen waiting for water to boil, arranging Harry’s tea bag in her favorite mug and tapping a syncopated rhythm with his fingers on the counter until Harry comes down.

 

Twenty minutes later, Harry comes into the kitchen wearing a black pair of boxer briefs. “How’re you feeling?" Louis asks. He’s not leaving aftercare mode until Harry’s had at least two cuppas, he thinks as he pours hot water into Harry’s mug.

 

Harry crowds behind Louis and kisses his neck. “Boy,” he says decisively, taking both mugs from the counter with one hand. “Sofa?”

 

Louis hums. When they’ve settled down into the brown leather comfortably, legs tangled together under the spare duvet, Louis sips his tea and pokes Harry’s thigh with his toes. “Hi," he says, probably for around the seventieth time.

 

“Do you think I’m weird?” Harry asks without further ado, gazing into his tea. His voice doesn’t shake.

 

Louis blinks. _Always_ , he doesn’t say. “No," he says slowly. _Why would you ask that?_ he doesn’t say.

 

Harry nods but stays quiet. He pushes his shin against Louis’s and sips his tea.

 

“Did I…” Louis swallows. “Did I do something to make you feel like that? Or?”

 

Harry shakes his head. “No," he says. Louis sets down his tea, pets Harry’s hair and waits.

 

“It was just…” Harry says after a minute. “Like, seeing you. With the. _Christ_.” Harry inhales deeply. “You looked _so_ fucking good, Louis, I— _god_. It’s never… I’ve never wanted that that _badly_ before.”

 

Louis swallows. “I—I _completely_ promise you that that's okay," he says. "I _like_ doing that for you, shit. You never have to feel weird about that. Ever.”

 

Harry hesitates, sips his tea again, and nods. “I love you a lot, you know,” he says. Louis takes the “tea” out of Harry’s hands and kicks him under the duvet until he moves his giraffe legs so that Louis can settle back against his chest, pulling his arms around him. Harry nudges at the skin behind Louis’s ear and he sighs.

 

“So you weren’t angry, then?” Louis says. “About, like. Me wearing the panties.” He examines the underside of his nails. File his nails, there’s a thing he could have done instead of laundry.

 

“Definitely no.” Harry laughs gently right into Louis’s ear. “ _Jesus_ , I never would have—I mean, that’s not, like, a _thing_ for me. Y’know?”

 

“I know.” Louis leans his head back against Harry’s chest and gazes at the picture of the two of them and their mums hanging on the opposite wall. “I was, um. Kind of worried you thought I was trying to make it into a thing? A fetish, I mean, when I know it’s. Not that.”

 

“Hey,” Harry says. He nudges Louis’s cheek and laces his fingers through Louis’s, kissing their enjoined hands. “You’re not me, right? You can have _things_. A lot of people crossdress without it meaning they’re, like, genderfluid or anything. It’s all right.” Louis squeezes Harry’s hand. “Doesn’t make you any less rugged and manly to me.” Louis can feel Harry smirk into his ear. Little shit.

 

“Awww,” Louis says, batting at their intertwined hands with a limp wrist, “you think I’m _manly_?” He tilts his head up and flashes Harry his most dazzling smile.

 

“The manliest,” Harry confirms. He tightens his arms around Louis, who thinks for a second _aren’t I supposed to be taking care of you now_ but this is how they work. They take care of each other.

 

“I don’t know if it’s like, a, _thing_ for me,” Louis says quietly after another minute or so. “I just. They’re just pretty. So.” He shrugs. “I dunno.”

 

Harry hums. “ _You’re_ pretty,” he says. He kisses Louis’s temple.

 

They’ll talk about the rest of it later: whether or not Louis’s going to wear panties again, why it turns Harry on so much, if panty-gagging is actually a real thing outside straight porn. For now, they’re just two pretty boys with mugs of tea and each other and the rest of the day alone, for once. They’re all right.

**Author's Note:**

> reminder that this is still true: people experience genderqueerness in a lot of different ways, intersecting with a lot of other different kinds of identities; this could be one way that people who may or may not be harry styles may or may not experience it; nobody actually 100% for sure knows harry styles's gender identity except harry styles and people who have been informed of harry styles's gender by harry styles, and there's nothing wrong with having queer headcanons!
> 
> tumblr: thepreviousquestion ; whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me. [mt 10:38]
> 
> ETA: since people are asking: i have one more part planned for this, but i also said that about the femslash!au three months ago so i clearly cannot be trusted. the word doc is open on my computer, though. it'll happen.


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